


Snapshot after snapshot

by Sou



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Annabeth Chase & Thalia Grace Friendship, No idea how to tag this it's so self indulgent, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, girl power I guess ?, lawyer!Reyna, more tags to come ?, photo-journalist!Thalia, pretty chill overall, probably some angst at some point but I'm not that far yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:22:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27440380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sou/pseuds/Sou
Summary: Thalia, a photo-journalist working for the Olympus Hunters Magazine, is assigned a photo-reportage profile of the rising star lawyer and activist Reyna Ramírez-Arellano. Problem is, she'd sworn not to work those kinds of jobs anymore. Left without much of a choice, she starts tailing the young woman, desperate to capture her for who she is. Easier said than done.In short : strangers to friends to... who knows.
Relationships: Thalia Grace/Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (Title might be changed).  
> I'm still extremely bad at summaries it seems. This is absolutely self-indulgent and since I'm busy, I can't even promise any regular updates. I do have an idea of wear this is going though.
> 
> Also, I try to proof read but it's not perfect, especially since English isn't my first language and I write this mostly at night (best combo).

When Thalia walked into the office, Artemis was on her treadmill, running at a regular pace. Her hair was up in a ponytail that bounced left and right with each step. She had a towel around her neck and for some reason, her running shoes were off, neatly forgotten on the floor. Thalia knew, she was preparing for the 10k charity run that was supposed to happen in a day or two, one she had been training for daily. Even more so, it was announced that her twin brother Apollo would be competing – everything was a competition to them – against her, and there was no way Artemis would take the risk of losing. Thalia watched her for a couple of seconds, then cleared her throat while knocking on the glass door.  
“Hey boss, you asked to see me?”  
“Ah, Thalia!” Artemis looked at her, her focus melting away as she slowed the machine to a stop and wiped her face. “Yes. Please, have a seat, there’s some business I’d like to talk to you about.”  
“Cutting straight to the chase, uh?”  
“You know how it is.”

Thalia declined a glass of water and slopped down on the chair facing the main desk. Used to her unruly behaviour, Artemis let it go. She passed on her silver bomber jacket, the trade mark of their establishments, gathered some papers, and sat on her leather chair. It seemed almost too big for her slim figure, but then again, so did everything in the office. Artemis, her own name a predicament to her condition, was one of those faces deemed immortal. It never seemed to age nor to change despite time passing. For as long as they had been working together, Thalia could not remember seeing the hint of a wrinkle. Even her frown – and she did that a lot – only left a shadow between her brows. She could have been fifteen or forty, it would have made no difference, and any of her co-worker, Thalia included, had too much respect to dare ask. One did not simply ask a lady her age. As if to entice speculation, her brother enjoyed to its fullest the same situation and refused, to the death of him, to reveal their birth date. Little was known of their parents, or their background before they’d entered the showbiz and they intended to keep it as such. For all Thalia knew, they could have sprung into existence out of nowhere one day – one as the equivalent of the perfect renaissance man of their time, the other as the head of one of the most influential media platform in the country. Bigots liked to define it as a “women’s magazine”, which, truth be told, Thalia had also thought it was before she’d got to work for it. Artemis was anything if not up to her reputation. She had a way with words and ethics that revealed, educated and empowered people, especially women. Sure, they had a say in fashion and the Hollywood world, but they also tackled mental health, politics, social and environment issues…and all other fields where women of all backgrounds had a rightful though often ignored or denied place. That’s what Thalia had grown to love about it. She’d learn of her own internalised prejudices, grown out of them, and now tried to make a difference of her own. Whatever business Artemis needed her to do get to, she’d go through with it.

“There’s no easy way to say this, so bear with me.”  
“I don’t like where this is going, and you haven’t even started.” Artemis rose an eyebrow and Thalia lifted her hands in defeat. “Okay okay, shoot.”  
She sighed, “You know how we’ve been trying to get an interview with Miss Ramírez-Arellano?”  
“The sportswoman or the lawyer activist?”  
“Lawyer activist. Hylla is… still to be convinced. On the other hand, her sister Reyna did accept.”  
“Nice!” Thalia grinned, “she’s pretty cool and you had your eye on her for quite some time!”  
“I did.”  
“…I sense a but. There’s always a but.” Thalia straighten in her seat and narrowed her eyes, “who’s to conduct the interview?”  
Artemis sighed again, “Sharp as ever. You are.”  
“But…? That can’t be it. You said it wouldn’t be easy so what’s the catch?”  
“Well…” Artemis paused, observing Thalia. Eventually, she leaned back and crossed her arms. “She read your early piece on Annabeth and she wants that same format.”  
It took a second for Thalia to fully register the information. Her face darkened, and the tension rose. The lamp on the ceiling flickered.  
“No.”  
“Thalia, there’s no other –”  
“No!” She cut her, her hands clenching the armrests. “Uh uh. Nope. There’s no way I’m agreeing to this. You know very well I can’t. I can’t do it anymore. Not since…” Her voice broke into silence.  
“I know.”  
Thalia sneered, “There always has to be a but with you, uh? Why is it so hard to just accept that I. Won’t. Do it.”  
There was a flash of warning in Artemis’ eyes. Her jaw clenched.  
“If it was up to me, I would gladly let it go. I wouldn’t ask this of you if I didn’t think you were ready. But, as you so amusingly point out, I have no other choice. The board has decided and promised Reyna. In exchange, she agreed to review some legal matters.”  
“So what, they sold me out? Some old white dudes decide for me, against my well-being for… what, exactly?”  
Artemis shrugged and handed her a tissue box, apologetic.  
“I don’t know.”  
Thalia ignored it, biting her lower lip too hard for her own good.  
“I’m not crying, thank you.” She sniffed and quickly dried her eyes with the back of her sleeve. “What if still won’t do it? Or worse, if I can’t do it?”  
“I guess… And although I hate the idea of it, this would be our last assignment together.” She smiled dryly, “they planned their coup alright. There’s no time limit to make sure you’ll be able to complete the task. And if for some reason they can’t fathom you fail at producing something that will satisfy Reyna, both our asses are on the line. They barely hide their contempt for me or what we try to achieve anymore. We’re too… wild, I suppose. Free.”  
Thalia clenched her fist and the light flickered restlessly.  
“Fuck it. Fuck them! Fuck isn’t even strong enough a word! They can’t do that!”  
“Sure they can. Doesn’t mean we’re going to let them.”  
“You don’t seem all that anxious,” Thalia hissed.  
“Oh make no mistake, I am boiling.” As if to prove it she uncrossed her arms to show the red marks her fingers had left on her skin. “Only, we have to pick our battles.” She managed a smile, “And I have every faith in you. I’ve got your back. You’ll manage. I may be your boss, but we’re first and foremost, a team. There’s nothing we can’t take down.”  
Thalia recognised that smile. It wasn’t so much of a pep talk smile as a sharpen, most definitely deadly, arrow. Artemis had something up her sleeve, something she couldn’t yet share but would, when the time was right. Somehow, it wasn’t all that reassuring. It meant that Thalia was a pawn, disposable for one side, essential to secure victory on the other. She disliked being played, especially in such an obvious way. Artemis must have felt it, because her shoulders relaxed and she leaned forward on her desk.  
“Don’t worry about all that for now. Do you trust me?”  
Like she needed to ask.  
“To the moon.”  
“Perfect. Just take care of yourself and try to enjoy your job. Leave the rest up to me.”  
Thalia closed her eyes, took a deep breath. She kept it locked in until she couldn’t, then released it slowly. “Okay. I’ll do what I can. I’ve got your back too.” When she opened her eyes, determined, the ceiling lamp shone its best light. “When do I start?”  
Artemis pushed a paper towards her, her teeth too sharp to fit her smile.  
“You’re meeting her tonight, here is her address. It’s all arranged, I’ll have Zoe explain the details to you. Don’t forget your camera.”

* * * * *

In the car, Thalia couldn’t help but google the name. Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano. One hell of a name. There weren’t many clear pictures, but there were a lot of adjectives. Fierce, ruthless, strategic, motivational, determined. And a lot of opinions. Entitled, female, coloured, disrespectful, loud, wrong wardrobe, not vegan or waste-free enough for an environmental vigilante. Thalia rolled her eyes and closed all the tabs. Almost too good a case. Did people not see, or did they refuse to see, that it was all a game? A misdirection? It was obvious Reyna played a character, one that set fire to the media, that got coverage, that relayed her agenda. The real Reyna? The one hidden behind the cracks, the one that inhabited and made the character real to play? Nowhere in sights. It became much clearer to Thalia why she had been requested, why her photo-reportage on Annabeth had made an impact.

It wasn’t that easy though. Annabeth was her childhood friend. She’d known her before they knew how to read and count. She’d taken more photographs of her than anyone else in the entire world. She knew all her demons, knew how to drag them out, how to exorcise them. And she knew how brilliant she was, how her mind worked like clockwork, how she apprehended the world, gave it meaning, gave it shape. She knew all her scars, all her terrible habits. If asked, she could have counted how many white hair she had and when she’d gotten them. Presenting her to the world as the talented, up-to-be-most-renowned architect of the decade had been all to easy. At the time, she knew next to nothing of journalism or even photography. Taking picture had been a wa to pass time, nothing more, and Annabeth had had to insist. She wanted Thalia to reveal her, without filters, with all her glory and horror. Not some random professional who would have never been able to capture her for who she was, scabs and scars. In spite of all the praise and numerous jobs she’d had since then, Thalia couldn’t help but feel like a fraud. She was proud of her work, of her ability to seize life with her camera, she’d even grown to enjoy it more than ever before. “The medusa of pictures”, they called her. Yet there was a reason she’d decided to stick to people she didn’t know personally. At the end of the day, making it personal hurt more than it probably should have. She’d learnt it the hard way, didn’t want to go through it all again.

The city lights reflected on the car window, bright and blurry. She’d left a text to Annabeth, to tell her of her new trial, asking for help in between the lines. Busy as she was, she knew she would get an answer as soon as the text marked read, but it was getting late and the window to escape shrunk with each street the taxi drove her through. Thalia had taken the bare minimum with her. Mostly, her camera equipment and a change of clothes. The modalities of the assignment were looser than she had expected. She was to tail Reyna, day and night, until she had enough material to build her photo-reportage profile, but she was free to live wherever she preferred. Considering that the young lawyer stayed at one of the best hotels in the city, she was almost glad to leave her messy flat for a free stay in one of their suites. Thalia had no idea what kind of plan could motivate such an investment, but she sure wasn’t going to decline it.

The taxi came to a stop, and Thalia realised they had arrived. She zipped her jacket halfway through, grabbed her backpack and suitcase and headed out towards the lobby. She blinked several time, adjusting to the golden light. The tiled floor reflected her puzzled expression. She shook her head and marched to the front desk, ignoring the double take some of the late customers did as they saw her. She felt underdressed, if not undressed altogether.  
“Hello ma’am,” the man at the reception greeted her. He wore a purple uniform with golden buttons and a tiny square hat that matched. His smile showed no teeth. “What can I help you with?”  
“Hi, my name is Thalia Grace. I’m here on behalf of the Olympus Hunters Magazine? There should be a reservation to that name.”  
“Let me look it up… Ah, yes. Eighth floor. Room 815, the Pine suite.”  
“…Eighth floor?”  
“Yes ma’am. One of our finest suites, with open view on the river and… Are you okay ma’am? You look pale.”  
“I’m fine,” she gulped. “At least tell me there is a bathtub.”  
He seemed a bit taken aback, “But of course. Here is the key-card. Wi-fi information is written on a tag next to the telephone. Room service is available 24h, 7/7. Please notify us of you checking out 24h prior to your departure.”  
“Sure, thanks.”  
“My pleasure. Anything else?”  
“Hum, actually yes. Could you tell me where to find Reyna Ramírez-Arellano?”  
“Miss Arellano stays at the penthouse on the ninth floor. You’re in luck, she came back from work only moments ago. Should I notify her of your visit?”  
“No it’s okay, she’s expecting me. I think. Anyway, thank you, have a good night.”  
“Please, enjoy your stay with us.”  
Thalia nodded and headed towards the elevator, card in hand. Eighth floor with view on the river. How did people stand to sleep so high in the sky?

* * * * *

Heights aside, the suite itself was all Thalia could have hoped for. The bed was soft but tough, just the way she liked, and big enough to contain three of her. There was a large, heavy desk, a closet and a safe. The bathroom had large mirrors, a sink carved in marble and a bathtub almost as big as the bed. For some reason, plants hung on the walls, cascading in different shades of green. The colours fit the imperial aesthetics the architect had gone for – something she knew Annabeth would notice the moment she’d walk in – sober and elegant. If she were to succumb to her anxiety, at least she’d do it in a pretty place. She put her things away with the intention of settling as long as she could, took a shower, and changed into a more casual look. She kept her bomber jacket on, the silver colour comforting to her, and belted her black slim jeans. Under the white lights of the bathroom, here freckles stood out like craters on the moon. So did the blue of her eyes and the faint purple of the bags taking home underneath. At the very least, she was the one behind the camera, not in front of it.

* * * * *

For some reason, her heart beat too fast too strong against her ribcage when she held out her hand to knock on door 912. The numbers of the room made no sense, though that wasn’t the reason Thalia felt so tensed. The camera around her neck felt like a weight, albeit not on her shoulders. She tried to settle down. Getting to know someone was always a risk, and yes, there was no subtle metaphors to the door soon opening on the path her life would take for the next weeks, months at most. It was scary, if not terrifying, but it was nothing more than life happening the way it should. She met new people everyday, this would be no exception. She had to make sure it would not be an exception. Opening the door didn’t mean she had to lower her walls. Despite herself, she laughed, and it echoed in the empty corridor. She rolled her eyes, slapped her cheeks with both hands, and finally knocked on the door.  
To her surprise, it opened right away. The first thing Thalia saw was the bathrobe. It was purple embroidered in gold, laced tightly at the waist. Her eyes passed a hidden cleavage and ended on the face they’d been looking for – brown lips stretched into a small smile, a straight nose right out of a queen’s portrait and eyes so dark the joy they contained could have been imagined. On instinct, Thalia took a step back.  


“I knew I’d heard some laughter,” the lips said, “You must be Thalia. Thalia Grace? I was waiting for you.”

* * * * *

Before she could think, Thalia snapped a picture of the woman standing in the door frame. Reyna, it had to be her, dropped her relaxed expression and replaced it with a scowl.  
“Right. At least by me dinner first. Again, Thalia Grace?”  
Despite herself, she pressed for another picture and cursed.  
“Shit. Fuck. I’m sorry.” Struggling, she turned off the camera and held out her hand. Finally, she dared to look at her eyes. The rest of her confidence ran off, and she hoped Reyna would not shake her now sweaty hand. “I’m Thalia, and you’re right. Dinner should be on me. Reyna, I suppose?”  
“Reyna.” She confirmed, grabbing her hand with more strength than strictly necessary and shaking it firmly. “Please, come in.”

Thalia was shown inside. The penthouse was not as big as she had expected it to be. The door opened on a spacious living room. On the far right, the kitchen, with a bar and cooking isle. The opposite wall was one large bay window that Thalia supposed could open on a terrace. She couldn’t see the bedroom, expecting it somewhere behind the kitchen, with the bathroom en suite. The floor was tiled white and covered in carpets, the couch longer than she’d thought possible. There were piles of papers all over and around the glass coffee table, with highlighters, pencils and a closed laptop. The TV was turned on with low volume for the news. From the bay window, the top of the city was visible in parts, veiled by the night and the half-pulled curtains. Overall, a very habitable space that had no character. Anyone could have lived here. How could Reyna spend so much time in there without leaving a trace of her? Thalia joined her at the bar, brushing her hands on the dark marbled surface.

“Nice place you have here…”  
A shrug. “It does the job, I guess. Can I get you a drink?”  
“Water or maybe a coke if you have one, thanks.” She put her camera down and sat the counter. From what she could see, there were barely any traces of recent cooking or even take out. She thanked Reyna once more for the sizzling glass of coke, noting the slice of lemon on the side. She itched to take a picture again, a focus on the drink with the young lawyer in the background. With some proper editing, it could have made for a nice retro shot, though she doubted Reyna was into that particular aesthetic… If she was into any aesthetics at all.  
“So…” Reyna began, drawing Thalia’s attention back to her. “I’m sure I’m not the only one who feels awkward about this. I know I requested it, but I have no idea what the process is. I’ve been told you’ll have to follow me around…”  
“I guess that’s one way to put it.” She took a sip. “It’s not so much stalking as capturing you.”  
“Yeah no, that doesn’t sound much better!” Reyna laughed.  
“Was in my head. I know what I mean.”  
“I’d like to know what you mean too. Especially since part of my work is confidential.”  
Thalia brushed her words aside, “No worries on that front. I have zero interest in your work. I mean, you’re the subject, and that’s what I’ll focus on.”  
“You did focus on architecture for your piece on Annabeth. And on ecological development when you did Juniper.”  
Thalia shot her a surprised look. “Because it’s less their work than a part of them. Have you read all of my assignments?”  
“I consider being a lawyer and an activist part of me too.”  
“I’ll be the judge of that.” Thalia ignored the frown of protest on Reyna’s face and repeated, “Again, did you read all of my assignments?”  
“What can I say, you’re good at what you do.”  
“Now who’s the stalker?” She grinned behind her glass, taking the woman’s shrug as a positive dismissal. “Joke aside, I can’t say I’m not flattered.”  
“You’re welcome.”

Thalia finished her glass and set it down with a clink. She kept it in her hands to hold back from grabbing her camera again. There was something about the Reyna she was being introduced to, both guarded and casual, with her tight braid and adjusted bathrobe under the bright lights, that made her want to seize the moment. It contained the right amount of artificial and authentic. She rubbed a finger on the edge of her glass.

“Anyway, about the process. It’s quite simple, really. I’m here to get to know you. See you. I observe and I take pictures. Sometimes I’ll tell you, sometimes I won’t. You be yourself and forget I’m there. Hopefully, we get along enough for that to happen.”  
“What if… I’m not very comfortable with you taking impromptu pictures of me?”  
“Sadly,” Thalia said without a hint of pity, “you’ll have to get used to it. It’s what you hired me for.”  
“Right, of course. When are we officially starting, though?”  
“Hey, no need to be so nervous. It’ll be fine.”  
Reyna poured herself another glass of water and mumbled, “I feel like I’ve just paid to buy myself a friend… Not sure how I like it.”  
Thalia burst into laughter. “Better than you holding a knife to my throat!”  
“Don’t speak too fast,” the lawyer scoffed with a smile she couldn’t hide, “I haven’t made up my mind yet.”  
She rolled her eyes, more amused than offended. “I’ve been told to be very amicable! I’ll let you off for the night, let’s say it officially begins tomorrow. Now, unless you have more question I’ll be terrible at answering, I’ll get out of your sight. It’s getting late. Dinner another time?”  
“Sure, I’ll be waiting. What time tomorrow?”  
“When I wake up?”  
Reyna visibly swallowed her come back and took a deep breath. “Fine. I’ll walk you out.”

Thalia grinned and passed her camera around her neck, ready to leave. She had meant it as a tease, but seeing how indignant Reyna was at the idea of someone not rising up every day to the sweet sound of an alarm, she was tempted to act on her words. As she stepped out, she took a last glance at the penthouse before settling her eyes on Reyna’s face. The idea of having to work with her angles was enough to draw an excited smile on her lips. She fiddled with the buttons of her camera.

“Well then, see you tomorrow. Thanks for the drink.”  
“Yeah, see you tomorrow. Oh, and Thalia?”  
“Mhm?”  
“It was nice meeting you.”  
Thalia flashed her a bubbly smile and snapped a picture.  
“It was nice meeting you too.”

* * * * * * * * * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me : this is a Theyna fic!  
> Also me : barely writes any theyna content
> 
> It's hard ok? But it's coming.

A week later, Thalia was yet to catch a glimpse of Reyna’s truth.  
She had tons of picture, not one showing what she was looking for. The fact was, she wasn’t even sure what she was searching, nor if it could be found. Every time she clicked her camera, it felt like Reyna was the one catching her off guard, constantly watching her from the corner of her eye. There were no blind spots for Thalia to hide into. She’d managed tons of shots, deleted half of them and condemned the others as usable but unsatisfactory.

There were those from the first morning, when Thalia had brought over some breakfast. The clock said nine am, yet Reyna was already dressed and at work, typing like a mad woman on her keyboard, juggling emails and phone calls. She had told Thalia to make herself at home, offering her some hot chocolate. There was tea, if she preferred. Most of the day had gone by without a single word exchanged. Lunch had been more toasts and an insane amount of water that could not have been healthy. Thalia had gotten a few shots of the young lawyer at work, on the phone, and finally resting on the couch with her feet up on the coffee table. She was to meet a client, which had been Thalia’s sign for departure.

The second day had followed the same rhythm, except this time running around town, from one office to the other. She wasn’t the one doing the thinking or talking, but she was just as tired from watching. Reyna, on the other hand, expressed no exhaustion. She marched on, appointment after appointment without as much as a bathroom break. In two days, Thalia had seen her eat five toasts, one croissant, a salad and two boiled eggs. She calculated her time sleeping to be between five and seven hours at most. Reyna never stopped. She went on and on, driven by a sense of duty that imposed respect. She’d allowed Thalia to take some pictures inside the court’s prep room, late at night and in the tube as they crossed the city. The pictures were good but they weren’t it. They showed a passionate, borderline workaholic lawyer. Again, it could have been anyone. It wasn’t Reyna. Or was it? She had, after all, declared that her work was part of her. Only, Thalia worried the young woman did not know who she was outside of work, outside the character she played.

There were those from that one time Reyna had spent an hour or two picking outfits for her next trial. She had asked Thalia to take pictures of her, and she had obliged. Having her model was better than nothing. Reyna had explained to her how she selected what went with what, tailoring her look to fit her design. Presenting in front of a jury, serving as a defence attorney or not, whether she was going for a powerful stance or a more moderate one, it was all planned ahead. At first, Thalia had had some trouble believing her, herself used to something more raw and on the spot. Picturing it, on the other hand, had been no problem at all. As soon as she had pointed the lens in her direction, she’d seen what Reyna had wanted her to see: her battle armour, her weapon of choice. The lights of the dressing room (she’d discovered those weren’t only in movies) brought out the dark shine of her hair. The choice of the collar either hardened or soften her brow. Reyna had selected a palette of colours that matched her skin tone and, somehow, the emotions in her eyes. She wore heels when she wanted to impress, flats when she wanted to appear modest – simple but efficient… She could have made a Vogue’s cover. Reyna knew how to manufacture her beauty to enhance her speech. She’d put so much reflection in the matter that Thalia had had to ask if she had studied fashion or something of the sort. Reyna had shaken her head, providing a vague answer, something about an internship at a spa resort, and that had been all.  
Now that she could scroll through the pictures and really pay attention to their quality, Thalia noticed that her framing and improvised compositions served the looks even more. She wondered if the young woman had known, in the heat of the moment, how expert her gaze would have been. She suspected so. On any other fashion assignment, Thalia might have considered them some of her best work in the genre. 

She had pictures of her drinking, running, on the phone, resting, ruffling papers, talking lawyer stuff with other members of the bar, even one where Reyna was changing channels on the TV. So many scenes, so little content. Thalia didn’t know what she was the most angry at. The fact that she was forced to do a job she didn’t want to, or that her fear of failure proved to be right? As if on cue, her phone rang. She checked the name on the screen, saw Artemis, and picked up as she collapsed on her bed.  
“Yes boss?”  
“I’m calling for an update. How’s it going?”  
“Bad. Like you even need to ask! Didn’t you receive the few pictures I attached to my last email?”  
“I did, that’s why I’m calling.” There was an unidentified noise. “I think they’re quite good. I like the portrait in the tube, with her face reflected on the glass but distorted.”  
Thalia groaned, “I knew you’d say that. It might be the only good one. The rest have no story… If there’s even a story to tell!” Another unidentified noise. “Where are you, there’s a weird sound.”  
“Shooting range, but for archers.”  
“Ah, Apollo is still sour about the run?”  
“You bet,” Artemis said proudly, then scoffed. “He wants his revenge, like he’s a better archer than me. Please. And don’t think I don’t hear you changing the topic.”  
Thalia grabbed a pillow to hold in her arms.  
“Maybe I’m just not cut for this anymore. It’s just not working. It’s just… I don’t know, it’s just wrong.”  
She winced, hearing both the arrow being fired and reaching its target. There was a pause, and when Artemis spoke again, her tone had Thalia crawl under the covers.  
“Listen to me very carefully, Thalia Grace. You are one of the best journalists I’ve had the opportunity to work with. You don’t investigate, you hunt. You listen and follow your instincts, even if it brings you trouble. When you sense a story, nothing can hold you back. You force your way in and you strike when your prey is the most vulnerable.”  
“You make me sound like a goddamn TMZ columnist,” Thalia grumbled.  
“Don’t interrupt me. You know you’re good, so here’s my question : is there nothing to see or are you refusing to see it?”  
Thalia opened and closed her mouth before she could speak a word. She felt like one of the targets Artemis had been shooting at, no doubt reaching the blood red centre each time.  
A deep sigh. “That’s what I thought. Reyna won’t be able to show you both her strength and flaws if you don’t allow her too. That’s probably why you noticed she’s so stiff. It’s like hunting a deer by taking her by surprise. That’s not how it works. You don’t headlight your prey. You have to give it space to feel vulnerable. Only then will you be able to get it. Humans are the same, and Reyna is human… Despite her work schedule. Even I am impressed!”  
“Yeah,” Thalia managed a smile, “it’s insane. I really struggle keeping up with her rhythm.”  
“You’re no quitter Thalia, it’s one of your best qualities. Just, remember being fragile goes both ways. If you keep her at bay, so will she.”  
“…Is that what you’re doing? In the grand scheme of things you won’t explain to me, are you giving the bad guys space to drop their guard?”  
Artemis smiled, wolfish, “When I say you have great instincts. Keep it up, kid.”  
“Right… thanks boss. I guess?”  
“Talk to you later, I’ll be waiting for positive updates.”

Before Thalia could answer, she hung up. No pressure. She untangled herself from her sheets and sat up. Getting involved with her subject was the one thing Thalia was avoiding at all cost. She knew Artemis was right, she was, after all, rarely wrong, though it didn’t make the whole thing much easier. Last time she’d been vulnerable, it had backfired in the worst possible way. She couldn’t take that risk again. She scrolled through the pictures she’d sent. Part of the job was believing Reyna was worth it… Was she?  
She noticed a new notification and opened up Annabeth’s series of texts.

[Annabeth] I’m answering so late, I’m sorry. I did follow all the news though, it’s high time we caught up face to face.

[Annabeth] So much to say, and I want to make sure you’re okay. I’m sorry this is happening.

[Annabeth] I have the day after tomorrow free. Sleepover and day out?

[Annabeth] Tell me asap, I’ll keep my schedule open. Luv u miss u.

* * * * *

After they had had dinner at the hotel's restaurant and were back in the room, Annabeth brought out of her bag a box that she declared was the true reason of her visit (it's not, but it's close enough to being at the top of her list). Tonight, they were finally colouring some of Thalia's hair blue. She'd picked a colour that she knew would bring out her eyes and be photogenic enough. Annabeth is good like that. If she hadn't been so engrossed into architecture, she probably would have been a designer of some sort. Whenever Thalia brings it up, Annabeth rolls her eyes and explains for the hundredth time that architecture is a form of designing and quite honestly, there is no way to shut her up except by kissing her or stuffing her mouth with food. Thalia's only ever done the latter of course, but she's heard the stories.

It was basically a Pandora box: there was the bleaching product, the conditioner, some shampoo and obviously, the hair dye mix. It would take them a good couple of hours but they didn't mind one bit. They haven't had time to hang out, if the amount of things they had managed to put into their conversations so far was any proof. Plus, it was going to look gruff and hand-made, Thalia loved it already. So they made sure they had everything ready and close at hand and got going.  
“It says here that the bleach should only be applied to the parts you want to dye, obviously, so how much are we colouring?” Annabeth asked.  
“Hu, good question. Haven't thought about it this far... Maybe the tips? Or at least not he roots. Like, just the top?”  
“Great so I'm basically improvising.”  
Thalia grinned as she sat on the stool and took her shirt off, “I won't hold you responsible if you make a mess out of my hair, promise!”  
“It's already a mess, girl! Do you still cut it yourself?”  
Despite the faint complaint, Annabeth ran her hands through Thalia's unruly strands, if only to get a grip at how thick her hair was. She then grabbed the bleaching equipment and got to work.  
“You know I do,” Thalia answered with a sigh of relief, “I can't trust anyone with that. It's too personal. And anyway, I like the result.”  
“And this has nothing to do with the fact that we used to cut each other's hair ever since that dreadful scissors accident when you were eight?”  
“You just want me to admit you're special,” Thalia chuckled.  
“Please, I know I am. I'll still take it though...”  
“You wish!”  
Annabeth laughed and left it that. She knew neither of them needed to express it with words. They'd had their ups and down, like any healthy relationship, but never anything that could hurt the bond they shared. Thalia was there for Annabeth's first drawing of the Empire State Building when she was five and had photographed and collected every single one that had came after that. Annabeth was the first to offer they ran away if Thalia's coming out didn't go well, and they had. They'd grabbed their bikes, the escape bags they'd prepared in advance with all the stuff they might have needed, and had pedalled for hours before they'd reached a train station and ridden to the next few towns over. After a couple of days (they'd conveniently made sure it was a long weekend), they'd had to decide whether or not they were going back. They had. Thalia was sixteen, she could hold on for two more years and then leave, never to return. Annabeth had never admitted it, but she could never forget the relief she'd seen in her eyes, like skies clearing up, not at knowing that they were going home, but at the fact they wouldn't part. Whenever her thoughts brought her back to that moment, Thalia couldn't help her tears coming up. She usually scrunch up her face to hide it though.  
“What's up? You're awfully quiet. Have you fallen asleep on me? Am I that good at it?”  
“No, no,” Thalia chuckled, a bit rough, “Just reminiscing. Do you remember when we ran away and we decided that dying our hair would make us incognito?”  
“Gosh yes,” Annabeth said, grossed out, “You went blonde and I went red. Worst decision of our lives.”  
“Can you believe our parents were more pissed off by that than by us disappearing or even my coming out?”  
“Not to this day. The audacity of them. We had to eat...urgh...canned meatballs for heaven's sake!”  
“And fight off that rat that chewed on your absolutely necessary box of premium crayons...”  
“Says the girl who brought her camera and reportaged us the whole time! So much for disappearing without a trace!”  
“Ah yes! My finest work to this date... I think I still have those vlogs somewhere.”  
“Please delete them.”  
“Also, reportaged? Is that even a word?”  
“Shut up.”

They kept bickering and reminiscing all the while Thalia washed her hair, Annabeth applied the colour, they waited, and Thalia rinsed her head one last time. She refused to look at it and instead offered they shared a bath. She didn't have to ask twice. In no time, they were up to their chins in hot water, barely seeing each other through the bubbles and steam. To set the mood, Thalia had turned on the bath lights, shaded from light red to deep pink. Annabeth gathered her hair up in a bun, wet strands dandling around her face in curls that defied the forces of gravity. Thalia grabbed her camera by the sink, on the marble counter, and pointed at her.  
“Don't move.”  
“Thalia, no!”  
“Thalia yes. Now stay still.”  
Annabeth rolled her eyes and took the pose.

* * * * *

Curled up in their bathrobes, they lied down on the bed face to face. While Annabeth was cleaning up, Thalia had dried her hair and prepared herself for the result. Of course, Annabeth being herself, she'd done a fantastic job. The blue stood out over her natural black without being too flashy. It radiated just enough punk attitude and somehow gave her spikes more edge and volume. The girl really could do anything with her hands. Thalia couldn't stop smiling.  
“I take it you like the result?”  
“Is there anything you're not good at?”  
“Nothing I've been made aware of,” Annabeth flaunted.  
Thalia nudged her shoulder, falsely exasperated. Then she brought the camera between them and snapped a picture of Annabeth's face, with her loose curls spread over the pillow.  
“I'm glad you came.”  
“Me too.”  
They smiled.  
“That being said,” Annabeth started, “I noticed we haven't spoken about your work yet. They say I'm obsessed but they haven't met you...On a good day. What's wrong?”  
Thalia put the camera down with a sigh. Of course Annabeth would have caught on.  
“Probably everything. No, that's too dramatic. It's just... I have no insight. It's like she's supposed to be there but she's not, not really. And I'm supposed to take pictures but I'm not, not really. I have plenty of material already, and none that I deem satisfactory. I'm well aware it's partially my fault, because I'm scared of getting too close or letting her get too close. Artemis suggested that maybe I'm refusing to see her rather than simply not seeing but... Ever since...”  
She couldn't bring herself to say his name. Annabeth squeezed her arm gently, inviting her to meet her eyes.  
“Hey, it's okay. You're okay, Thalia. Reyna is not... Reyna is not Luke.”  
“Of course she's not. I know that. But I just can't seem to...”  
Forget. Forgive. Move on.  
“Has it really been that hard?”  
Thalia passed a hand on her face. “Yes. No? Not really. I usually don't think about it too much. In fact, I felt like I was doing much better, until being forced on this job. It's like he's there, haunting my frames... Not even him, but what it – he – could have been. And it's unfair, unfair for me, unfair for Reyna. I can tell she's trying, or at least trying to try, her body language is so controlled it's a little confusing.”  
Annabeth listened closely, her mind gearing up to process, comprehend, and reply to the best of her ability. There wasn't much to say about it. Thalia was being honest and all Annabeth could do was accept and embrace, which she did. Dwelling on emotions had never been her forte, they both knew as much, and so when she simply apologised and asked if Thalia was willing to show her the pictures, she agreed. She went to grab her laptop, opened it on her Reyna gallery and handed it to her friend. Lying back on her side, she watched closely as Annabeth reviewed each of the two hundred and something pictures. She couldn't help but take one, loving how the bright light of the screen in the dark of the room turned her focus into steel. Eventually, the first shot came back on the screen and her expression relaxed.  
“Not that I'm an expert, but Thalia your work is amazing. I can only imagine your emotional struggle, and you know I support and am here for you. Professionally, however, this is edging on brilliant. I'm not sure I understand why you don't like it nor want to use it. Your grasp on her is deeper than you had me believe and your atmospheres are so... How to put it. When I look at those, I can feel like I'm in Reyna's world, if that makes sense.”  
“But there's so much tension,” Thalia protested. “Those could have been taken at an actual photo-shoot, or with any model that knows her script. It doesn't feel...authentic to me. Not Reyna authentic.”  
Annabeth put the laptop away to face her. “Have you considered that maybe that this is also a part of Reyna? You told me yourself over the phone that you were kind of curious about the woman, considering that she had clearly created a public persona and hidden her private self away. Your words, not mine. So maybe what you're touching here is her, flickering between public and private. Sure, you're not interested in her public mask, that's not the job. But the flicker is.”  
Thalia took a moment to ponder her words. Maybe she was on to something. Maybe the lack of authenticity was authentic. Maybe there was something behind the shell, something more raw. She itched to grab her material and get through her files to search for a hint. Annabeth didn't let her, cutting her train of thoughts instead.  
“You know I've worked with her, right?”  
“You what?”  
“Yeah, a year and a half ago. You don't remember? I'm pretty sure I told you.”  
“But that's when you were named associate.”  
“Actually, she's partly responsible for that.”  
Thalia frowned, “No, you owe it to your hard work, passion, and gorgeous cleavage!”  
Annabeth slapped her arm, pretending to be shocked. “How dare you imply my cleavage is not the only reason I got the highest position in the office!”  
The expression on her face was so genuinely offended that Thalia burst into laughter, soon followed by her friend.  
“Jokes aside,” Annabeth managed once she'd calmed down, “She did have a role to play in that.”  
“Can't say I'm not curious now. Spill it.”  
“Okay so you know that business tower we had in plans but ended up handing over to another company?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Well, part of the construction site we had picked is actually sacred land to the native people here. But my boss of the time hid it away. He was taking commissions from the investors to have the project done as quick as possible and without saying a word. You know me, if I'd heard about it at the time, I would have pushed him out of the company through the third floor window. Anyway, Reyna was hired by the locals to expose the situation and protect the land. You really don't remember it? It made the papers for like, months!”  
“I have never heard of this before now,” Thalia answered, amazed.  
“Damn, where were you?” Annabeth shook her head and continued. “She was ruthless. Her case was flawless and pierced through our stupid bunch of lawyers like a knife in melted butter. She pulverised the guy. Thankfully he gave up, paid whatever needed to be paid and resigned, or else she would have bitten his head off. I swear, this woman is a wolf or she was raised by them. I got the position a few months after that. Actually, sent her an email about it.”  
“Holy... What the f, Annabeth. How come I learn about this now? That's...Insane! Or amazing. Or brave. Or all of those together.”  
“You bet. Your photo-shoot in the dressing room radiates that strength. Seeing her there is like being back at that meeting table, watching her slide paper after paper across to our team and seeing them turn paler and paler by the second.” Annabeth laughed, “Maybe that's why she doesn't need food, she eats her opponents for breakfast!”  
Thalia sat up, “I don't even have the words to express how I'm feeling.” She looked at the night ou through the window, “Do you think it's improper of me to yell “GIRL POWER FUCK YES”?”  
“Wouldn't blame you if you did. I was basically trembling with energy that day.”  
“Urgh! I so wish I could have seen it! And obviously I mean take pictures.”  
Annabeth grinned and made herself more comfortable against the pillows.  
“Maybe you'll get to see her in court, they said she has a trial soon. End of a case or something.”  
“What? Really?”  
“You're the one following her around,” she snorted, “have you not been paying attention at all?”  
“She asked me not to.”  
Annabeth opened her mouth, decided otherwise, and shook her head.  
“I suggest you get your head in the game, at least!”  
Thalia pinched her lips to contain her smirk.  
“Sure, I'll get my head in the game... If you tell me about all that heart trouble you've so desperately tried not to mention tonight. What was the name again... Ah yes. Percy Jackson?”  
At this, Annabeth turned white, then bright red. Thalia grabbed her camera and dared a smug “Say cheese!” before her friend lunged at her with all the embarrassment she could muster.

* * * * *

The last thing Thalia expected after spending her day roaming the city with her best friend was to receive a text from Reyna that said [I need your help]. She wasn't sure what was the most surprising : the ask, the lack of context, the lack of punctuation, or the lack of answer when she replied. Worried, she headed straight from her cab to the penthouse.

She knocked, several times, and when she was sure nobody would get the door, she turned the handle as her gut twisted. To her relief, it wasn't locked. The end of afternoon light was pouring in from the opened bay window. At first glance, Thalia thought the place was empty. A whole pile of papers had been blown out to the floor by the chilly air. She gathered them around without reading and put them back on the coffee table where she supposed they had been initially stacked. She then heard Reyna's voice calling her from outside. She gulped, considering her options. She could join her, make sure she was okay and suffer the anxiety of falling nine stories down to her death, or she could stay inside and ask what was wrong from there. She took a deep breath, then another, curled her hands on her camera and stepped towards the terrace. Reyna was there. She was bare feet, wearing rolled up jeans and a shirt too unbuttoned to be decent. Her hair was down and her head rested on the back of her chair (for lack of a better word). There wasn't much sun to bask into, yet her eyes were closed. Some of her eyeliner was smudged on one side. For the first time, Thalia saw the lines of exhaustion that pulled down her face. She took a picture, then another.  
“I can feel you staring Thalia.”  
She took another picture. “You don't seem to care.”  
“I'm too tired and scared to care.”  
A close up on her face and lips as she breathed out the words.  
“You said you needed my help?”  
Reyna opened her eyes, Thalia took a picture.  
“I do.”  
And another.  
“What can I do for you, then?”  
A pause. She lowered the camera.  
“I don't know.”  
Regretted it.

* * * * * * * * * *


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've played too much Ace Attorney and watched all of How to get away with murder.

“I like what you did to your hair.”  
Thalia swatted the hand aiming for a blue strand away with a small smile.  
“I know, you've said so twice already.”  
“Because I really do like it!”  
“And I don't like how you're really trying to change topics!”  
Reyna covered her face with both her hands and let out a frustrated, most unlady-like groan as she fell on her side. They had been sitting on the couch side by side for almost half an hour and Thalia had no more ideas of what was wrong than when she'd first walked in. On the other hand, she had clicked on her camera so many times her finger had started to hurt. There was something strangely addicting to capturing the young woman unravelling. She patted her legs.  
“Come on, you asked for me. The least you can do is explain why.”  
“You're right, you're right.” She sat up and pointed both hands at the tons of files and papers covering the table in front of them. “This is why!”  
“You... I'm confused. You need my help to sort through your work documents?”  
“I don't know.” Reyna brought her knees to her chest and hid her face once more. “Mostly, I didn't want to be alone.”  
Snap.  
She turned her head just enough to look at the lens. “Is that weird?”  
Snap. “Not to me. If it's not about the documents themselves, is it about work? Some big trial...thing coming up?”  
Reyna nodded. She was staring straight at the camera, unsettling. Thalia had never seen her so open before, so easy to strike. She couldn't bring herself to, it would have felt like a betrayal. She didn't move when Reyna lift herself up nor when she held out a hand and lowered the camera from Thalia's face. The night fell on them quicker than paper planes. They'd forgotten to turn on some lights and they could make out each other's shape rather than see the details of their bodies.  
“Can I ask you something?” Reyna's voice sounded too loud, inappropriate in the darkness.  
“S-sure?”  
“What do you see when you look at me?”  
Thalia tensed. Her lips parted, waiting for an answer that she could not, for the life of her, provide. The young woman didn't seem to mind. She let go, and her eyes turned somewhere else.  
“Others, when they look at me, they see what I choose to show them. Fierce, strong, determined, powerful, dedicated, even pretty or sexy... I hate those words. They're too much pressure. I play them, because as a woman of colour that's what's expected of me if I want to stand at the top. I'm not allowed to be or show anything other than that. Worse, I won't allow myself that freedom. I can't risk... I don't even know what I'm risking, honestly. But what I do know is that I have no second chances. If I fail... I fall. At the end of the day, I'm locked up in expectations of my own designs, playing right in their hands, and it's eating me up. It's like my whole life is at stake every step that I take forward. This trial tomorrow... There's an actual life on the line. If I don't win, if I fail, an innocent man will fall. I thought I had it under control. Hell, I planned so many possibilities I feel like I'm playing a game of chess. But now... The opposition has a new coup. They've added an eye witness to the list. I've read his file and Thalia... I'm so close to losing I could throw up.”  
“No.” Thalia hadn't meant to sound so determined – or desperate – but she tried not to care. “No,” she repeated. She let go of her camera to find Reyna's hand and held on to it tightly. “You won't lose. I don't know the details, I can't even imagine the pressure on your shoulders, but I am sure of one thing: you won't lose. You've worked your ass off for years, you've saved countless people and places. Maybe you won't win this one, but you did give it your all. It's even more honourable that you're still trying to save others than yourself – even if I don't believe you need saving. The only fall you'll go through is the falling asleep, or maybe down the stairs if you trip. What I mean is... You'll be fine. I'll make sure of it.” Reyna squeezed her hand, strong enough to make her wince, not enough to make her let go. “Also: I don't know.”  
“What?”  
“The question you asked. What I see when I look at you. The answer is: I don't know.”  
“...Thank you.”  
Thalia brought their hands to her lips for a second, then she let go and stood up to stretch.  
“Come on. I'll make us some tea, some food, and we can review the case together, within available details of course.”

* * * * * 

The room was so tensed Thalia wanted to scream. Nobody moved, she swore she could have heard that one fly bumping on the closed window if the two bench of lawyers facing each other hadn’t been talking. As expected the situation was complicated. Reyna had done her best to defend her case throughout the three hours they’d been locked in the room, but the opposite team was good. The case was straight out of a movie. A small hand-made bomb had exploded on an empty construction site early in the morning, which had led to some destruction of property and a long delay on the project. Thankfully, the workers hadn’t been there yet and nobody had been hurt. The defendant that Reyna was trying to protect was a middle-aged Mexican man named Sir Manúel. He had worked in construction before moving and opening a fireworks shop. He lived close by, jogged along the site every other day – day of the explosion included – and seemed to have been caught on a nearby camera several times that morning. The evidence against him was circumstantial, which had been the core of Reyna’s defence. That, and racism. The problem was, the prosecution had gotten their hands on the hairdresser whose shop was right in front of the construction site and who now claimed to have seen Sir Manúel run out of the site minutes before the explosion. If the witness’ statement turned out to be true or believably true, there would be no turning back. Thalia had promised to stay the entire time of the trial, for support, and if she didn’t regret her decision one bit (she had taken so many good shots), her nerves were starting to give in to the pressure. She couldn’t stop fidgeting with some buttons of her camera or the end of her sleeves. How everyone managed to stay still, she didn’t understand.  


The man, alleged witness, walked in and took his assigned seat. His name was Dave Campbell. He had blonde cropped hair that made him look almost bald, he had a few pounds too many, ears engineered to be pulled on by bullies, and a gold ring on his left hand he kept playing with. His smile was charming though, in a sloppy kind of way, one that made you trust him with your hair and secrets. Thalia couldn’t help but find him extremely vulgar. She dragged her eyes to Reyna, her suit, sharp braid and cold eyes. Her hands were clenched on papers and she was biting on the inside of her cheek. If she hadn’t known her to be a nervous wreck on the inside, Thalia could have been fooled. She took a picture, just in case, although she was convinced the mask was too thick to be seen through. The prosecution went first, asking him to reiterate his testimony for the whole crowd to listen. They then asked a few questions for clarification. Dave had been at the store earlier than usual, stocking some deliveries, when he’d heard the sound of the explosion. He’d immediately ran out of his shop and seen Sir Manúel making an escape. He had recognised him because he was a regular at the shop and his wife had been the one cutting his hair for several years now. The times coincided, the description of Sir Manúel’s outfit too. In short, it didn’t look good for Reyna. She was called by the judge for her cross examination and Thalia stood ready to immortalise the scene.  


It wasn’t pretty. Reyna asked him to repeat well-known facts several times, to detail his morning at the shop, what kind of products he’d received… It was obvious she was stalling more than trying to find an opening. The more questions she asked, the more confidence Dave displayed. Thalia didn’t like it. She didn’t like his tone, the ‘sweetheart’ he allowed himself while twisting his wedding ring around. Something was off about this guy. The judge asked Reyna if she was done. She turned to her bench, her eyes jumping from her colleague to Sir Manúel to… Thalia. They froze. She snapped a picture and mustered her best smile. You can do it, she wanted to say. Get him. Bite his head off. Reyna frowned. Her eyes moved up to Thalia’s hair, widened in a realisation only known to herself, and she smiled. Thalia gulped and stole a picture. It wasn’t the grateful or tight smile she expected. It was one she was all too familiar with. The hunt was on.

* * * * *

“Mister Campbell, how long have you been a hairdresser?”  
“At least fifteen years.”  
“And how long have you known Sir Manúel?”  
“I’d say… maybe five?”  
“And was your wife always the one cutting his hair?”  
“I think so, yes?”  
“Did you notice a friendship between them? I can only imagine that after… let’s say Sir Manúel went every other month, for five years, that would make… about thirty haircuts, give or take, yes? I can only imagine the defendant and your wife creating a special bond, for him to become and stay as a regular customer.”  
“Maybe? I mean, yes, surely. Sir Manúel was always very correct and amiable.”  
“Correct and amiable?”  
“Yes. Very polite, very charming. He offered her chocolate at Christmas this year, to thank her I guess.”  
“I see. Noted. Now, back to your profession if you will, have you, in your fifteen years of practice, often dyed people’s hair?”  
“Ha, of course! Half of my customers come for that purpose.”  
“No need to say then, that you are more than familiar with different hair texture, bleaching and all those processes?”  
“Yes, of course.”  
“Have you ever dyed your own hair?”  
A pause.  
“Yes.”  
“How many times, you’d say?”  
“Uh… maybe twice.”  
“Which colours?”  
“Excuse me?”  
“Which colours have you dyed your hair?”  
“Once green and once black.”  
“Would you say the black shade you picked might have looked similar to that of Sir Manúel’s hair?”  
“I don’t… I don’t understand. Yes maybe. Black is black, there aren’t many different shades of it.”  
“Oh I’m sure there are. Probably the reflections more than the colour, that is true. But if you had to compare, would it be similar?”  
“Y-yes.”  
“One last series of questions, if I may. First things first. Are you familiar with the movie Legally Blonde, mister Campbell?”  
The prosecution intervened, “Relevance to the case? Your honour?”  
“Miss Arellano?” the judge asked.  
Reyna’s smile widened, “Oh I promise the link will appear quite soon.”  
“Make it quick.”  
“Yes your honour. Mister Campbell?”  
“Uh, I may have seen it… a long time ago.”  
“Allow me to freshen your memory. At the end of the movie, Elle Woods, much like myself, is in a bind. She has to defend an old friend of hers but can’t seem to find the error in the testimony. Somehow, her knowledge of capillary treatments, perms to be more exact, save her. She understands that the real culprit is in fact the step-daughter that lied about where she was and what she was doing at the time of the crime.”  
“I’m not sure I follow.”  
“Again, allow me to clarify my train of thoughts with another question. How long have you known that your wife and Sir Manúel were involved?”  
“What?”  
“How long have you known that your wife and Sir Manúel were sexually involved, hence that your wife was having an affair?”  
Cambpell didn’t answer, and Reyna pressed on.  
“Just like Elle Woods, but this time with actual evidence compiled in the different files that were presented, I would like to share a theory, which you will be able to answer to of course. The delivery receipt you provided do not mention an exact date. They prove a window of several days, which means that you could have received the delivery any other day of the week. If that were the case, I would have to raise the question of what it was that you were doing at the shop this early in the morning. Before we come back to that, I’d like to talk about your hair. On the footage video that shows you walking to and from your work, I noticed something quite surprising. Your natural colour is blonde and yet, there is a time window of two days where your hair is black and the day of the explosion, you are seen on the video footage with a hood on or your current cropped cut. I wonder why?”  
“I… I tried the black colour and didn’t like it, so I decided to shave it.”  
“You could have simply bleached it. You have the products and the expertise.”  
“It’s not good for the hair to suffer too many treatments in so little time.”  
“So you shaved it.”  
“Yes.”  
“When did you shave it?”  
“I don’t remember.”  
“Well, from the video footage, it seems like it was the day of the explosion.”  
“Maybe, yes. I’m not sure where you’re going with all that, sweetheart.”  
“Do not fret, mister Campbell, I’m getting to it. The first reason for this little… capillary detour, is because while blonde hair corresponding to your wife’s was discovered at the defendant’s house, it turned out that a surprising large quantity of dark hair was also found at your place. However, knowing of your recent folly, those hairs were not tested. It would come to no surprise, I believe, that if they were to be tested now, those hair would not match yours but Sir Manúel. What I do wonder, on the other hand, is whose identity would match the hair found at the crime scene.”  
“Hair at the crime scene?”  
“Yes, mister Campbell. You see, up to now, the defendant was the only person whose hair was dark enough to match that of the evidence. Nobody questioned it. At this very moment, I do question it. Sirt Manúel is an expert in constructions and explosions, whether professional or amusement. He certainly would have known to protect his head when dealing with explosives in a highly dangerous environment. Yet, in your very own description of him fleeing, you specifically mention his head being naked, his short black hair recognisable. I would also like to pay attention to the outfit you described him wearing. Brown linen trousers and a colourful short sleeved shirt. You can’t remember if he wore a jacket or not. Once again, knowing the expertise of the defendant, I find it unlikely that he would wear such an outfit for this specific purpose. I would also like to point out that the outfit you describe in your testimony is none other than the very same kind of outfit my client wears when he visits your shop… as per shown in weeks of video footage. Are you still with me?”  
Campbell nodded.  
“Perfect. With all this in mind, I’d like to get to my daring hypothesis which you will, of course, be allowed to agree with or deny. In this hypothesis, you have known for quite some time about your wife’s affair but haven’t confronted her. The problem in the equation, one might say, would not be your wife but the man who may have courted her, may have pulled her to him. After all, he did give chocolates to a married woman, on Christmas. You’ve learned of his professional background through his discussions at the shop and have noticed him jog in the neighbourhood quite often. On the other hand, the construction taking place, if ever finished, would most likely bring competition to your shop, less visibility or anything that could harm your business, really. I am sure you know more than I do. Hence, an idea pops out. Two birds with one stone. Slowing done the construction and freeing your wife of this man. You’re about the same age and built. The only difference for sure on camera is the hair. But that isn’t much of a problem, it is, after all, your job. You can dye it black and pretend your didn’t like it to shave it off without raising suspicion. You plan a delivery early in the morning that week, maybe even order more than strictly necessary. Sadly, there are plenty of tutorials online to create explosives and, expert as you are, you know your fair share of chemicals. You then have opportunity, means and most importantly motive. Of course, in this hypothesis, you have no plans of getting involved, but the affair is discovered by the authorities. So the easiest way to get out of it is to become an eye witness. You have more than enough information to convince us, to make us look away, and I dare add, the prosecution needs leverage. More plainly, here is my theory: you were not at the shop for a delivery that morning, but to create an explosive that you later on brought to the construction site. All you had to do was swipe your shop, keep the receipt, and wait for Sir Manúel to take the fall after you accused him.” Reyna finally seem to catch her breath. “How close to the truth would you say I am, mister Campbell?”  
Dave was mortified. His face was ghost pale, his wedded finger bright red from twisting the ring. There were areola of sweat on his chest and armpits.  
“Mister Campbell?” she insisted, “Would you like a glass of water, perhaps?”  
“What I want,” Dave exploded, “is my wife and my business back, you thief! I’ve lost everything because of you foreigners! First the love of my life and soon my livelihood! Oh I wish you had placed that bomb yourself! You couldn’t even take the fall, you good for nothing alien!”  
“Silence!” The judge yelled, “Silence in the courtroom! Slurs will not be tolerated! Someone escort mister Campbell out into custody, please! Silence! Thank you miss Arellano for your demonstration. The court is adjourned to review evidence in light of those new facts. A full verdict will be provided by the end of the day.”

* * * * *

Thalia was so baffled that she almost missed it. The very brief moment of pure joy when Reyna’s face expanded into a thousand suns; when her gold eyeliner sharp as a sword turned into a crown that sublimed the marvel on her features; when she discreetly fist-pumped, biting her lower lip with a silent “YES”; when she understood that she had prevailed; when she turned to the crowd, searched for Thalia, saw her smile behind the lens and mouthed “I won.”

Heart beating to her fingertips, she pressed the button.

* * * * *

Sitting at the hotel’s bar, the girls clinked their glasses, smiling from ear to ear. Thalia had had time to come back early, change into something more comfortable and, for once, drop her camera. She knew she’d probably regret it later, but tonight was for celebrating and she didn’t want to give Reyna a reason to retreat early or hide away. She’d waited at the bar, the young lawyer having to stay behind until a definite verdict was reached. It came within a couple of hours, and she had rushed to meet Thalia. The first thing she did as she had sat down was to loosen her tie and order two glasses of champagne. Neither particularly enjoyed drinking, but both were willing to make an exception. It was a bit late in the evening, most clients had moved to the dinning area, leaving them alone under the gilded lights.  
“To yet another non-failure!” Reyna offered, gleeful.  
Thalia laughed, “You can call it a victory! It was brilliant, I was there to witness!” She winked, and her laugh doubled as she sipped her glass, “I still can’t believe you Legally Blonde him. This is going to make the front page for sure! How did you even come up with that idea? Poor Dave was about to faint the moment you mentioned the movie!”  
The young woman blushed, biting her smile. “I did blow up that courtroom, didn’t I?”  
“Gasp! Too soon Miss Arellano, too soon!”  
“I’ll have you know, it’s a victor’s right to make jokes in bad taste.”  
“Is it now?”  
Reyna snorted and put down her empty glass with a shrug, “Not really. What’s done is done, sue me.”  
“Ha ha very funny.”  
“Thank you, I practice.”  
“Oh my god!” Thalia rolled her eyes, barely containing her laughter, and waved at the waiter to have their glasses refilled. She turned back to Reyna, expecting anything but the genuine gratitude she was showing. She drummed her fingers on the marble. “Why are you looking at me like that?”  
“Oh, sorry. Well, not really sorry. I just… wanted to say thanks. I was in a really tight corner back there, and if you hadn’t been there… We probably wouldn’t be here drinking now.” Reyna leaned on her elbow with a hum. “I told you I liked your hair. Seeing its new colour made me realise Dave had done the same, and so on.”  
It was Thalia’s time to blush, and she was glad she could hide it behind her glass.  
“Uh, okay…You’re welcome?”  
“Yeah, thanks.”  
Reyna finished her second glass, then proceeded to untie and untangle her braid. The more strands came loose, the more she sighed with relief. Her hair was surprisingly long, waiving down to the middle of her back. Once done, she crossed her arms on the counter and rested her face there. After a beat, she turned to look at Thalia who decided to blame the heat of her cheeks on the alcohol. Where was her camera when she needed it?  
“I don’t think I’ve said it before,” Reyna stared, “but it’s really nice to see you.”  
“You see me all the time. Literally, I’m always there.”  
“Oh I’m well aware of that. I meant, it’s nice to see you directly and not through or covered up by your cameras. You’re much less intimidating.”  
Thalia opened her mouth to defend herself, argue that she was intimidating even without her apparatus, maybe joke about their height difference. Instead, she took a deep breath and gave up. She laid her face on the counter, somehow glad for the cool feeling of the stone against her temple. Her hand found Reyna’s hair and she twirled a strand around a finger.  
“Yeah, you too.”  
They shared a small smile and remained quiet, listening to the clicking of cutlery and glasses in the distance. Thalia itched for a picture. She wanted the moment to be made eternal, to capture the gentle curve of the golden eyeline, the straightness of the nose, the plump of the lips, the dishevelled frame of hair, the creased of the jacket. Having to let go what she was allowing herself to see, beyond the character, beyond the cracks of vulnerability, was probably the highest crime of them all. She blinked, and Reyna shifted positions.  
“Hey, I was thinking… What are you doing the day after tomorrow?”  
“Whatever you’re doing, I suppose,” she answered as she straighten on her stool, stretching her arms over her head, “Why?”  
“I was thinking of taking a couple of days off, now that my biggest on going case is closed. Don’t look so relieved, I’m well aware I need to rest. Thank you for the concern though. Anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to maybe… I don’t know, hang out?”  
“Don’t we always?”  
Reyna looked away, chewing on her bottom lip, “No but like… This time it wouldn’t be me dragging you around but something we could do together.” She shrugged, “It’s just an idea.”  
“I’m in!” Thalia cleared her throat, “I mean, it would be cool to actually share something rather than just… coexist, I guess.”  
“Great!” Reyna jumped on her fit, beaming. “It’s a date then!”

* * * * *

Annabeth rolled her eyes so hard the screen froze mid-action. It was late in the night or early in the morning, Thalia wasn't quite sure. She'd spent hours turning around in her bed until she couldn't take it anymore and had called her best friend. Annabeth was still at work – did she ever leave? – but had picked up right away, agreeing to a video call as long as she could keep sketching her newest design as they talked.  
“So what if she said it's a date? People say that all the time! Hell, we say it to each other every time we make plans. I don't get what's bothering you so much.”  
“It's not so much bother as...I don't know. Confuse? Puzzle? Surprise? Any other synonym that has a “z” sound?”  
“Lol sure. Try again, honey.”  
“Annabeth! Please.”  
“Okay okay I'm sorry.” Annabeth visibly put her pencil down and leaned on her chair with a sigh. Not a very flattering angle, though neither had the energy nor the ego to care. She grabbed her mug, took a sip, realising too late her drink was bitter cold. She put it down and pushed it away. “I was joking but not really, girl. I don't understand what's bothering you, because it is bothering you, don't pretend otherwise.”  
Thalia grumbled and curled up in her covers until only her face was visible. She hated when her friend was right (which was basically all the time).  
“Fine! I am bothered and also going through all the synonyms that have a “z” sound. I just... I don't get it! On day it's all business, the other it's...Well, honestly I don't know what it is but it's confusing!” She dragged the “s” as much as she could and Annabeth bit back a smile.  
“I'm going to ask the tough questions here but: who cares? Who cares if it's confusing, puzzling, surprising, and all that jazz,” she winked as she outsmarted the joke and continued, “It's proof that you're finally growing closer, which you've been complaining you weren't doing until two days go. And I know getting close to someone is hard, but maybe... It's hard for her too. Not in the same way obviously, but she may not be as comfortable with socialising as she seems.”  
“That just sounds like you now.”  
“Yeah, I noticed as I said it out loud. Though, it seems to me that she and I have a lot in common. That should be reassuring, no?”  
Thalia wriggled out of her blanket, “I'd like to say yes, but I haven't learned a lot about her. And by that I mean, facts. Like, what's her favourite colour or dream trip.”  
“Which is great because – ”  
“ – That's what a date is all about,” she completed in her stead.  
“Exactly.”  
There was a short silence. Annabeth squinted her eyes, trying to decipher her friend's expression through the pixelated image. Eventually, she gasped, and Thalia took it as her cue to hide behind her pillows.  
“Oh my goooosh! Now I get it! You're into her!”  
“Am not!!” she yelled, somehow panicked.  
“Are too!”  
“It's not like that!”  
“Say that again looking me in the eyes!”  
Of course, Thalia couldn't bring herself to. Instead, she muffled a new scream behind her pillow.  
“No but really, girl. How did that happen? Apart from the fact she's dead gorgeous and could step on us that we'd ask for more.”  
“What?” she moved the pillow away and, upon seeing how solemn Annabeth was, she burst into laughter. Thalia wiped the tears at the corners of her eyes and fanned herself, trying to calm down and not imagine how funny the image of Annabeth being stepped on by Reyna was.  
“Can you please stop laughing, I feel like a fool.”  
“'Cause you are!” She took a deep breath, then another, and cleared her throat. “Can't blame you though, you're absolutely right.”  
“Thank you. You haven't answered my question, though.”  
“Because I don't know. I don't even know if I'm really into her. She's just... She makes me feel like that gif of the guy with all the interrogation points. Or the one with the woman trying to do mental calculation.”  
“Not sure what this is about but I get the meaning: you're completely lost.”  
“Yeah.”  
Another silence. Annabeth looked at her for few seconds then went back to her design, waiting for the moment to pass before she could ask another tough question. Sensing it coming, Thalia arranged her pillows and braced herself.  
“Do you think you being so lost, or scared, is because of what happened with Luke?”  
“Probably.” Still, her voice wavered. She took a moment to gather some confidence. “The context is too similar. He was the last person I was close to and...We both know how it ended.”  
Annabeth put her pencil down. There was no casual way to approach the topic, she'd realised.  
“Thalia, the relationship you were building and Luke's choice are not correlated. You were not, are not, responsible for what he chose to do with his life.”  
“But I could have helped!”  
“And you did! The happiness you shared was not fake! You did what you could do, the rest was his responsibility.”  
“In my head I know. In the whole rest of me... It still hurts.”  
“I'm really sorry. Maybe...Maybe you could tell Reyna?”  
Thalia scoffed, “Great date story.”  
Annabeth frowned, “You know very well what I mean when I say that.”  
Thalia nodded. She brought her knees so her chest, squeezing herself together. It wouldn't be fair on Reyna not to tell her. Whatever the young woman's intentions were, she deserved honesty.  
“Damn,” she chuckled to hid her sniffing, “why aren't you here right now?”  
“Because I'm a workaholic who thinks she doesn't deserve her astronomical pay unless she provides perfection in exchange, duh. Also, it's four in the morning and I'd rather not take an Uber this late.”  
Thalia managed a genuine smile. “Want me to keep you company until I fall asleep?”  
“Sure. Especially because we haven't talked about the core of the problem.  
“Your expression betrays you goof! What's the deal?”  
Annabeth shrugged, then leaned in close to her cam, too serious to for Thalia's liking.  
“What are you going to wear?”  
“Bye, I'm going to sleep.”  
“No wait – !”

* * * * * 

[From Artemis > Thalia] Just reviewed your latest batch of photos. The board is, forgive the humour it's late, on board. Great work. They expect the assignment to be completed soon. Have you started writing yet?

* * * * * * * * * *


End file.
